


An Inspiration, The Present

by Quantum_Mindsets



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29731473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quantum_Mindsets/pseuds/Quantum_Mindsets
Summary: Aboard one of the ships of the Emperors Children during the Great Crusade, Neophyte Alentius is reassured by his acting Chaplain during a visit to the medical bay.
Kudos: 4





	An Inspiration, The Present

The boy sat upon the sterile medical slab that he was guided to by a member of the apothecarium, the predominately white armoured warrior bearing a double helix upon his chest, its sides flanked by the golden wings of an eagle and his right pauldron bearing a similar motif upon a deep violet background, the symbol of a singular wing and talon clutching a non-existent orb. The room was empty say for the pair, unoccupied tables that were identical to the one that was being used lined the square room, totalling to four with borders of curtain rails that hung around the edges of their zones, the centre of the room leaving a four pointed cross if viewed from a birds eye angle.

"Hold still." The hulking suit said, its face hidden beneath a helmeted layer of plasteel, ceramite and an up-armoured emerald visor. An attachment that branched from the power pack on its back whirred as it positioned itself to a forward position, a similarly coloured light to the visor being cast out as a collection of thin, flat lattices, rolling over the boys body in a meticulous manner. A voice came from within the vox grille in the helmet again, speaking with a civil, professional tone "Your general health is excellent, as expected of course." He said the last part more to himself than the patient as he continued "Lay stomach down for me."

The boy complied without pause, now long used to the orderly directions given by the full fledged astartes who served as his mentors and leaders. His body was biologically that of a fifteen year old, yet the organs and bio-chemical supplements given to him by the medical section of the legion was already transforming it into something greater, to a weapon of war that was already nearing the standard peak of human fitness. The genetic information from the implants made his hair grow more pale than the splendorous blonde it once was, shaved down to a neat buzzcut as to cut down the identity of the individual, working them into a mould that would suit the needs of coordinated training and mental conditioning, then only after would he have earned the right to grow it out again.

As he laid to his front, the cool, pristine white surface of the slab greeted him, though that temporary chill was now more a memory from before he was inducted as a neophyte to the third legion, the exposure trials dashing previous definitions of being cold. The air of the medical bay was similar in its temperature, the clean, cool surfaces of the tiled floor gently sloping into grates beneath the operating tables, always ready for another waterfall of blood to pour down their metallic maws. The armoured bulk of the apothecary shifted as the neophyte positioned himself, the armed instrument on the pack of the medical astartes looming down to his spinal column, specifically the point just below his neck as it ran a smaller scan on the zone. 

"Your omophagea has melded well with the structure of your cervical vertebrae." The gauntlets of the astartes touched the area, gently pressing into it "Any pain?" 

"No sir." The young voice replied

"Any twitches or tensions in it?" He asked as he moved an individual metal clad finger to ring the outside of the small organ, now joined into the body of the boy like it was always meant to be there.

"Only slight twitches, no tension, only happens on occasion after I've eaten." 

"It's adapting to your physiology, the food supplements shouldn't prompt memories, but in these first months of blending it will react as it coordinates with your stomach." The apothecary removed his finger "You may sit up again." As the boy finished doing so, he held a hand to the boys chest. "Breathe deeply." The box shaped device attached to his right forearm beeped once, then twice as the patient did as instructed, moving a bit to the side after a short moment as he placed his hand instead on his back, repeating the process. "Your third lung is working well, have you been training with it recently?"

"Yes sir, Sergeant Potella is running us through extra drills along with Chaplain Falchet."

"So they should do." The apothecary removed his hand from the boy, walking over to a diagnostic machine as the door to the chamber parted from its middle section, both occupants of the spacious room looking over to the new entry. 

Chaplain Falchet wore his black armour, stencilled and inlayed in various places with swirling, golden floral patterns, the same trend of the right pauldron of the apothecary adorning his own, the symbol of the wing well placed upon its royal backing. Two shining wings were outspread across his breastplate, however where the symbol of life was on the apothecary's, there was only a hollow, plated skull. The badge of office hung from his waist, the heavy four tipped cross of the Chaplaincy dangling against the metal it was attached to by chain, scrolls of oath paper, both new and old unfurled from points like the edges of his pauldrons, the flats of his lower leg armour, or even sparingly placed on the bottom borders of the aquila stamped on his chest, all held by fine, crimson pressed wax seals. The intimidating visage of the obsidian clad astartes proceeded inside, the skull helm of death ringed by a spiked iron halo on the high seat of his power pack, the voice emanating from the metal teeth deep, its tone smoky yet authoritative as was programmed into the mortuary crown. "Apothecary Zavier." The revenant acknowledged as he reached him

"Venerable Chaplain." The apothecary was taken to a humble doctor as he gave a small bow despite his armoured bulk "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"Checking up on the boy." His form did not have to gesture to the subject who now seemed a tad frail in witness to the high ranking figure, an unusual sight as he would normally inspire a proud correction of posture, his body now only doing so from reflex and requirement. The looks from each of the warriors armoured gazes slightly unnerved the figure as they eyed him, the Chaplain crossing his arms as his height towered over the boy despite the raised slab. "You are aware of why I've come here, Neophyte Alentius."

The boy was hit by a pang of conformational anxiety to the nervous anticipation he held when the Chaplain entered the room, his gaze faltering as his head hung low by a fraction. The apothecary folded his arms as well, eyes inscrutable behind his visor as the neophyte answered in shame "Yes sir."

"Endangering the mission is punishable."

"I understand sir, I accept any and all responsibility to my mistakes and the punishment that comes with them."

The apothecary's helmet shifted to Falchet, whose dead-masked gaze was still locked on the guilty figure, expectantly awaiting what the runt had done to evoke the chaplains ire. But his wrath did not boil, his black hand coming up to his helmet to remove it as he locked the shade to his waist, his Crozius Arcanum on the adjacent side as a lenient sigh escaped the astartes as his features were revealed. Long, snow white hair cascaded down his shoulders as it was freed from the metal prison, a healthy fullness about it as it possessed gentle, drawn out waves in its growth pattern. His face was handsome and solid, yet it held the virgin purity akin to most of the skilled members of the legion, untouched by reaping blades or flames that would seek to disfigure its stunning appearance. His skin was a creamy, smooth texture, and his nose long but compacted to a stone shape, cheekbones rolling as if made of dunes of flawless diamond and eyes as dreamy as they could get, gentle, cloudy grey sky being displayed by their hue. A faint, but strong mix of well chosen perfumes scented the air as his likeness was revealed, politely moving the cold air away with graceful lulls. He was strikingly beautiful, even so for a fully fledged member of the Emperors Children, out doing the likes of the more haughty officers whilst retaining a character of persuasive authority.

"You need not speak this way." The true voice of the chaplain was also revealed, opulent, calculated and regal, always toned by a peaceful frosting as the soft melody carried like a flow that had no end. "It was not incompetence and a lack of professional conduct that made you falter today. Something lurks in your mind, I can feel it disturbing your common clarity. Look upon my face, Alentius." The request was in a nurturing tone, relief immediately releasing the unknowingly tensed muscles of Alentius, his face slightly sorrowful as he looked up, the pure presence of the man, no- angel that was standing before him coaxing his emotions to the surface. "Does your past linger?" Falchet's supreme emotional intelligence left many of his comrades on the backfoot, unused to a gentle, knowing touch.

Alentius could only nod, tears trying to form at the back of his eyes. "I see." Falchet did not regard Zavier, knowing that the apothecary was taken in by his charisma and listening intently. "Give me your grievances, your sadness." And with those simple words, the boy started to cry. He may have been half way through his training as a space marine, but many forget the origin of the mighty warriors. Children. Scared, anxious, proud and tumultuous children. Falchet took a more parental approach with the neophytes he would have under his command, earning him the scold of some of the more heartless or closed off officers in the legion, though some silently welcomed it, Lord Fulgrim himself acknowledging the Chaplain personally, swelling his heart with unspeakable pride and a storm of thankful, humbled emotions. 

The boys sobbing was respectful, he did not wail nor scream, he wept with decency, with a strong willed regard for self respect, beholden only to himself. "I... I just.. I'm so far from home sir. I miss my parents. I miss my sisters... I miss my brothers."

"Your grief is natural, yet you know new brothers stand at your side. Do you still feel guilt?" It wouldn't surprise him, he'd found the boy among the ruins of a once great palace laid low by rebels who resisted compliance despite the royal family's acceptance of imperial law, the only survivor of a family that once stood smiling before him and his Lord when they visited, the young children looking at the astartes with a mix of awe and fear. The boy blamed himself for the deaths of his parents, for his siblings, a few executed in public if they didn't immediately resist, his own self hiding, causing a certain word to permeate his skull at inopportune moments when his new family needed him; Coward. 

Alentius' sobs shortened, helped by the strength piteously drilled into him during rigorous training "Yes sir."

"The past is that, the past. It is there so that we can learn from its mistakes, its triumphs, and its fated emotions. Take pride in where you are, always remind yourself that you count yourself as a student among the third legion, an aspiring neophyte who is destined to reach greatness within our quest for perfection absolute." His praise was genuine, despite Alentius' occasional slip ups, the chaplain always observed him getting back up and improving where he fell, using it as a stepping stone "The guilt you hold for your past family will not aid you in the countless years to come, as a boy you would've been killed too if found, and so if you ever think you should've died in that tenebrous scene, then you would not belong here." His voice grew with an underlying swell of fire, the passionate heat mixing with the flow of the waves as his face took on a frown 'You would not belong with us, nor would you belong anywhere near this awe inspiring, all unifying great crusade across the stars. Hold your head high. Now."

Alentius did as ordered, Falchet's inspiration already swelling inside him as the sobbing completely stopped, his look replaced with one of resolve. "You WILL be one of the Emperors Children, you yourself know this, you yourself feel this in your very core. So stand with your brothers as an exemplar, show them what a model you can be, prove to me and yourself that you are able to scourge your mind of this petulant, disgusting doubt in yourself and drape your soul in a well earned confidence that shows only a confirmation of your abilities and potential, the zeal and shine of an armoured soul."

"Sir! Yes sir!" The neophyte yelled as he looked his mentor in the eye, causing a pleased smile to spread across Falchets face as Zavier looked on beneath his helmet at the chaplains face, disregarding the actual subject as he was caught in a stupor of word craft as always, making his second heart beat slightly with anticipation 

"Now, presuming Apothecary Zavier here has done his needed work, you may proceed to the training ring with your brothers and Sergeant Potella."

"Understood sir." Alentius wiped the stains of his tears as he shifted his head to Zavier after pushing off the medical slab, the chaplain stepping back a bit to allow him room "Thankyou for your time sir." The apothecary nodded, allowing the boy to run off out the corridor as Chaplain Falchet watched him go with the same look on his face, turning to Zavier with the satisfied smile still on his infatuating face.

"Intact, apothecary?"

"Y-yes sir." He stammered, a rare occasion given his usual sharp demeanour, causing Falchet to chuckle, the noise like a ray of heaven breaching the material realm, his frown gone as the serene look returned to his graceful features.

"Continue on with your work then. I shall see you when the Emperor next dictates it so." Falchet then turned and strode out as his armours servos silently whirred with the movement, leaving his helmet clamped to his waist as he went, ethereal silver locks contrasting against his obsidian and gold highlighted armour, causing a passing female doctor to be taken aback as he departed the room. She sheepishly moved out of the way as the captivating titan glanced her a look with the same previous smile on his face, not pausing in his stride down the hall as her head turned inside the room he exited for a moment, more in a blank state of dashed thought as an apothecary met her gaze. Despite his helmet being on, she could see he did not appreciate being caught on a backfoot, the door closing shut immediately as he promptly blink clicked the command for the controls.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a short 40k one shot I created the other day, though I plan to do more than just this, potentially bringing back a character or two as I go.


End file.
